A Game of Thrones

As I watched the premiere of Game Of Thrones last night, a wave of giddiness washed over me. The first three books of this series were a large part of my high school life. Back then, I read science fiction, horror, and fantasy novels like they were going out of style, two of my favorites being The Song of Ice and Fire, and anything by Stephen King. George R.R. Martin's tale was so brutal, sexual, gritty, and intriguing that I couldn't put those three books down. They were epic. I had never read a fantasy series where main characters were killed without mercy and so suddenly. For that alone, I knew that the series was something special.

And then after reading volume three, GRRM didn't publish one till I was a freshman in college, by which point, I wasn't really that interested in reading fantasy novels. I wanted to continue the story, but could never muster up the energy to crack another 700 page tome. Too much time had passed - even though it was only three years or so since I had so voraciously read volumes one, two, and three. I was boozing in college, reading Hemingway. No fantasy for me.

Since then, I've thought about the series, but still have not read that fourth volume. Why? Two key reasons. First, while the story and the characters are top notch, the prose is a bit clunky. Not to be a snob, but for the most part I like to read literature. A book needs to have a solid literary style for me to really enjoy it. Like most fantasy, the writing style was a tad pedestrian. It made reading another SOIAF novel a bit of a bummer.

Secondly, fuckin' A there's a lot of shit to remember. I wouldn't feel confident starting 4 now. I've forgotten everything! I'd need to read 1-3 again, and that's 2,500 pages or something. A lot to comit to, especially from a guy who laments every unread article in The New Yorker.

But as I watched the first episode of the HBO series, I remembered how good it was. SOIAF is so unique, the characters unlike any other series or novel I've read. Hell, the sex scenes alone used to get me off. And that all came flooding back to me as I watched, remembering things I thought I had forgot, knowing my friends had no idea what they were in store for. Granted, episode one wasn't the best hour of TV I've ever watched, but knowing what we are in store for, I could picture this TV series being very entertaining.

Long story short: I am inspired to read the series again and catch up. Will I? Probably not. I see myself struggling with page one of the prologue in Game of Thrones. But I'm gonna try. The story of Dany and her weird brother across the Narrow Sea really made me itch for the novels. I remembered the way Martin conjured that weird nation and its inhabitants, and I felt it again in the HBO series - which is high praise, I think, comparing the excitement of a good read to a TV program.

So let's see. Maybe I'll read it, maybe I won't. But I'm definitely going to continue watching the series. I just hope that people who haven't read the book will enjoy it as much as I am and feel that I will.

Hell, watch it for the tits!